sleek tradesmen's children, so as to get money to buy books with. With his hands still behind him and his beard sunk on his breast, the doctor related the incident in a sharp and incisive tone of voice, pressing his lips close together between each sentence.
At that date fate had forged the closest ties between him and a woman, a lovely, fair lady who was the wife of an honourable and respected man and the mother of three children. He had entered the family as tutor to the children, but had subsequently been a constant guest and visitor, and with the husband too had reached a footing of mutual confidences. The feelings of the young tutor and the fair wife for each other had been long unsuspected, and longer still unexpressed in words; but they grew stronger in the silence, and more overpowering, till one evening hour when the husband had stayed late at his office, a warm, sweet, dangerous hour, they burst into flames and were near to overwhelm them.
In that hour their longing had cried aloud for the happiness, the tremendous happiness, of their union; but, said Doctor Ueberbein, the world could sometimes show a noble action. They felt ashamed, he said, to tread the mean and ridiculous path of treachery, and to "clap horns," as the phrase goes, on the honest husband; while to spoil his life by demanding release from him as the right of passion was equally not to their taste. In short, for the children's sake and for that of the good, honest husband, whom they both respected, they denied themselves. Yes, that's what happened, but of course it needed a good deal of stern resolution. Ueberbein continued to visit the fair lady's house occasionally. He would sup there, when he had time, play a game of cards with his two friends, kiss his hostess's hand, and say good night.
But when he had told the Prince this much, he concluded in a still shorter and sharper tone than he had begun, and
